


Of Popsicles and Summer Afternoons

by track_04



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, NewS (Band)
Genre: Food Kink, Hand Kink, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-14
Updated: 2009-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryo and sweet things do not mix. Unless, of course, they're Massu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Popsicles and Summer Afternoons

Ryo hates sweet things. He prefers a good plate of curry over a bowl of ice cream anyday, and he'd much rather watch Jackie Chan kick someone's ass on screen than one of those weepy _woman_ movies that Koyama and Shige (which Ryo will never **ever** let the other live down) seem to love so much. He'd rather look at pictures of manly things-- like boobs and fist fights-- than pictures of tiny, adorably, fuzzy little kittens. Hello Kitty, in all her sugar coated cuteness, makes him physically ill.

Yes, Ryo _hates_ sweet things.

Which is exactly why he can't quite figure out why, when Massu asks him if he wants to share his other popsicle, he agrees. He hates the sweet, syrupy taste of popsicles, hates the mess that they make and the way they leave his face and hands sticky afterwards, hates the way the taste lingers on his tongue afterwards. He hates everything about them, and yet when Massu asks and smiles at him in that brilliant, annoying way that he has, Ryo finds himself nodding yes and following the other outside.

It's hot outside, an uncomfortable thickness in the air that he associates with bright afternoons spent running along riverbanks and chasing butterflies (entirely his sister's idea) with his siblings as a child. He follows Massu to the empty bench that's hidden between the back of the small rehearsal hall they've been using and the next building over and takes a seat beside the other on a bench, still wondering what he's doing here.

It certainly has nothing to do with the grin Massu gives him as he rips open the wrapper on the popsicles and holds them up, gripping one of the sticks with an expectant look. It has even _less_ to do with the way that Massu laughs as Ryo grasps the other stick, their fingers brushing as they struggle to break them apart. And it has absolutely, positively _nothing at all_ to do with the way that Massu's thigh brushes against Ryo's, warm and oddly familiar, as the other settles against the worn wooden back of the bench and attacks the sticky treat in his hand with a contented sigh.

Ryo starts to lick at his own absently, ignoring the way his chest tightens when Massu turns a smile at him, lips bright red with lingering traces of popsicle and his hair curling around the nape of his neck from the heat. It's annoyingly cute and makes his stomach twist in an odd way, makes him not even care that he could be sitting inside in the air conditioning right now and not out here, on this uncomfortable bench in the stifling summer heat.

The way that Massu runs his tongue along the slick red edges of his popsicle is entrancing, and Ryo finds himself staring, his own (disgusting) popsicle all but forgotten where it's clutched between his fingers. He makes a noise that might be considered embarrassing if it was coming from anyone less manly than him and almost drops said (disgusting) popsicle in his lap when Massu pulls the end of his own half of the popsicle between his lips slowly, his eyes half shut and a blissful expression on his face.

Ryo continues to stare as Massu finishes his half of the treat off bit by bit, lips and tongue making short (and entirely too erotic) work of it. He doesn't actually remember that he should probably be eating his own popsicle and not staring open-mouthed like an idiot until Massu licks the last bright red drops off his now-empty popsicle stick and tucks it into the wrapper with a smile. It's only the wide-eyed look that Massu gives him, barely touched popsicle now melting onto Ryo's hands and dripping down onto his pantleg, that brings Ryo back to himself.

"Oh... shit," Ryo says a beat too late, frowning as he holds the offending now less-than-frozen treat out and away from himself, trying to cover his embarrassment at being caught with a scowl and a few gruffly murmured swear words. This, he thinks as he stares at the sticky state of his fingers, is why he hates sweet things. They're messy.

"Let me get it," Massu offers with a soft, breathy laugh, taking the ruined popsicle from him and putting it somewhere that Ryo doesn't catch (or care about, he tells himself), too intent on staring at the flecks of red dripping from his hand and down onto the hard-packed earth below. He lets Massu take his hand and pull it towards himself to clean it, hoping the other doesn't notice that Ryo's face is as red as the remains of his ill-fated popsicle.

"What?" Ryo jerks in surprise as he feels something entirely too soft and wide against his hand, something that is most definitely _not_ one of the ever present stash of wet wipes and kleenex that Massu carries around in his pockets that Ryo had been expecting Massu to clean him up with.

Ryo turns sharply then, thinking that his mind is playing tricks on him, only to find Massu's tongue tracing the ridges of his palm, chasing streaks of red around the curve of his thumb and down to his wrist. He makes a soft sound but doesn't move, his breath caught in his throat and sweat dotting his upper lip (from the heat, he's sure) as he watches the bright red stain running down the middle of Massu's tongue grow brighter as he continues to clean him with a slow, thorough efficiency. He ignores the urge to ask _why_ or any of the other number of questions running through his head, because if he asks a question now, Massu will have to answer, and he'd rather the other's mouth stay busy with what it's doing right at this moment. The questions can wait until later. Instead, he just sits there watching, not breathing or moving or doing anything that might ruin whatever type of moment it is that they're having here.

Ryo manages to keep it up until Massu finishes cleaning his palm and wrist and moves on to Ryo's fingers, licking the tip of the first almost playfully before he pulls it into his mouth slowly and swirls his tongue around it in a manner that can only be classified as _obscene_.

"Massu--"

Massu laughs then, low and breathy, the sound of it vibrating around Ryo's finger and going straight to places that he should not be thinking about because, really, this is _Massu_ and Massu is cute and sweet and _innocent_ (or as innocent as you can be in Johnny's) and should never be thought of in dirty, grown-up ways. Nevermind that Ryo has had decidedly not innocent thoughts about him before, or that these thoughts have been getting worse lately, because they are most certainly wrong.

Incredibly wrong.

Even if the way Massu's lips and tongue are sliding slowly off of one finger, his teeth scraping against Ryo's skin gently before moving on to the next, feels incredibly right.

Ryo exhales sharply as Massu does something with his tongue then that should be downright _illegal_ and Massu laughs again, pulls his mouth off of Ryo's fingers with a distinctive pop.

Ryo opens his own mouth to make one of his usual scathing remarks in an effort to kill the tension and give himself a chance to run away somewhere where he can get his head together, somewhere safe where Massu is not smiling that half-smile at him and looking at him with heated eyes.

He almost manages, too, the words right on the tip of his tongue as Massu leans in and brushes their lips together, managing to steal Ryo's words and breath and capability to think anything except _MassuMassuMassuMassu_ in the process.

Time seems to blur then, seconds and minutes reduced down to the number of breaths shared between them as Ryo finds himself groaning softly and kissing Massu back with the same intense concentration that he'd seen written on Massu's face as the other finished off his frozen treat. Massu's lips are slightly cool and sticky as Ryo runs his tongue against them and pushes it inside, chasing after the heady flavour buried beneath the lingering traces of cherry that can only be Massu. Ryo can feel Massu's hands against his back, pulling him closer until their chests press together and Ryo tangles his hands up in Massu's hair, hoping fleetingly that there's not any melted popsicle left on his fingers.

Ryo stops worrying about possibly sticky fingers and well, anything besides the feel of Massu against him then and worries about making Massu just as breathless as the other is making him. Ryo thinks as they sit there, chest to chest and thigh to thigh, that he could suffer through an entire ice cream truck full of popsicles if it got him just one kiss like this. If he was more coherent at the moment he'd probably draw some sort of parallel between Massu's kisses and a sugar high. Luckily he's not, because thoughts like that are most definitely not cool or manly in any way.

Ryo has no idea how long they've been like that when Massu finally pulls away, cheeks flushed and lips swollen as he smiles up at Ryo shyly and trails a hand down his back. Ryo wants to say something deep and meaningful or, at the very least, cool, but merely manages to sit there with his mouth hanging open and his breath escaping him in soft pants. He knows that he probably looks incredibly stupid and unattractive at the moment, sitting there open mouthed and wide-eyed, but with the way that Massu is looking at him he can't really do anything but smile shyly back at the younger man and duck his head. He feels Massu start to pull away and does the same, unwinding his hands from Massu's hair slowly, glad to see that all trace of stickiness seems to be gone from his fingers and that he hasn't left any behind in Massu's hair.

Ryo takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his own hair, sitting back and watching as Massu straightens his shirt. Ryo grimaces a little when he realizes that they've probably gone over their allotted break time and, worse yet, that he's going to have to go back inside and dance and sing and act like he didn't just have an unexpected make-out session with Massu in the back alley. His eyebrows are already starting to draw together in irritation at the thought when he realizes that he still doesn't know _what_ had prompted said make-out session, and he's just opening his mouth to ask that very question when Massu, once again, beats him to the punch.

"Tegoshi was right," Massu says as he picks up the popsicle wrapper from its resting place on the ground beside his foot, careful not to spill the sticky half-liquid remains of Ryo's popsicle nestled inside.

"What?" Ryo stiffens a little, wondering what the hell Tegoshi has to do with _anything_ right now. Unless of course this is one of his pranks, and in that case...

Ryo's already scowling when Massu answers him, the other's words and the accompanying smile he gives him enough to make the rest of Ryo's worries fly out the window. "I didn't think you'd want my other popsicle, since you hate sweet things, but he told me you'd say yes if I asked."

Ryo can feel the heat in his cheeks at that and looks away, picking imaginary lint off his pants and directing a silent apology (and, consequently, a thanks) to Tegoshi for ever having doubted him. He licks his lips and tastes cherry popsicle and Massu there and chances a shy glance at the other out of the corner of his eye. He clears his throat a bit more loudly than necessary and attempts to look non-chalant. "Sweet things aren't so bad."

The way Massu grins in answer and leans in for another kiss, all smiles and sunshine and cherry flavoring, Ryo thinks that he doesn't mind sweet things, as long as he has someone there to share them with.


End file.
